


The Meeting Place

by Memorykey3



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23642968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Memorykey3/pseuds/Memorykey3
Summary: What happens when our favorite captain runs into the Master of Death at a bar?Also posted on Fanfiction.net under the username memorykey3!
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Harry Potter
Comments: 3
Kudos: 103





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Howdy y'all! This is a story that I have previously posted on Fanfiction.net, but I figured that it might be time to branch out. With that stated, there are more chapters posted ff.net, but I wanted to use uploading on here as a way to second check my work (mostly because I'm my own beta and can't be tamed). Without further ado, enjoy and let me know what you think! --MemoryKey3

"So,” said the man seated across the bar from the Master of Death, “do you come here often?”

Green eyes looked up startled, the man having been deep in thought. His lips pursed for a second, giving way to a sly smile, “Now that was awful.”

The man chuckled, not looking bashful in the slightest, “How about: ‘Do you have a map? Because I’m lost in your eyes.’”

Harry groaned, pretending to slam his head into the bar. Inwardly, he was hiding a massive smile.

“No?”

He sat back up, shaking his head ‘no’ as if exasperated, but Harry was having a great time. This was an excellent distraction from what he had been thinking about earlier, “Maybe if you try it again from the top.”

The other man cracked up at that, “No, I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough. How about we cut out the middleman and you let me buy you a drink.”

It was only then that Harry noticed the other man's accent; he was American- something not uncommon and not unwelcome around these parts. Despite himself, Harry felt a smirk breaching the corner of his lips. He was immortal, so there was very little that this man could do to him, relatively speaking. Besides, he seemed like he may be fun to talk to. Merlin knows Harry could use a conversational partner.

Allowing his full smile out, Harry nodded, “I don’t see why not.”

The man met his smile, as if he were breathing a sigh of relief, his dastardly plan of talking to the green eyed man going off without a hitch. He ordered the drinks (‘A Firewhiskey, thank you very much’) and returned, glasses in hand. Once Harry looked up, he saw the American man was much closer than he started, merely one seat away from him. He could make out little details, such as his eyes being brown and the fact that his cheek probably dimpled when he smiled. Yes, he was attractive, but there was something about him that told Harry that there was more than what met the surface.

“So, can I get a name, Mr. American?” 

““I’m Captain Jack Harkness,” he spoke, thrusting out his hand as if they were closing on a business deal, “and you?”

Not quite sure if Harry wants to give up his real name as that has had bad results in the past, he supplies a false one, “Hadrian Evans, at your service. What might you be the captain of?”

‘Jack’ looked abruptly flustered, “Sorry, you’re the first to ask. I’m afraid I’m not captain of anything anymore. It's still a force of habit.”

The Master of Death nodded in understanding, “I understand that-- I used to be something akin to a police chief and often find myself reaching for my badge.”

“Did you step down from your post or something?”

Harry scratched the back of his head in thought, “Got too old, I suppose.”

Jack leaned back in his chair, eyebrows high on his forehead, “Too old?! You don’t look a day over 20!”

Tapping his fingers on the table, the wizard took a long sip of his drink before stating, “Yes, it might seem that way, huh? I assure you, I’m much older than twenty. Perhaps even older than you, granted you do seem wiser beyond your years.”

The other man raised his glass, “To graceful aging, then.”

Harry couldn’t help but raise his glass in turn, “To graceful aging indeed.”

The two men sip from their respective glasses, eyes linking across the way, air zipping with electricity. Glasses clink upon the table, leaving their owners to just take the other person in.

“Listen, Hadrian, I’m normally not this forward, but would you like to maybe do something tonight? I feel like there might be something worth exploring here,” said the American, grabbing Harry’s hand, seemingly out of habit.

Harry looked back at the man apologetically, “I’m so sorry, I’m actually supposed to meet someone here tonight, and”, he gestures across the bar to a much older looking man, “it seems that he is here. Perhaps another time?”

Jack looks back at him, taken aback, “Oh man, I didn’t mean to flirt if you are seeing someone else. Sometimes my mouth gets the best of me.”

Harry waves his hand at the other man frantically, “No, no, he’s just my best mate, this is the first time I’ve been back to London in years and I figured a visit was in order. Anything to get him away from work and nagging wife for a little bit. Figured he could use the fun.”

“Ah, well I suppose that makes sense then. Well, I shouldn’t keep you, after all this is your first time back in London for a bit. Besides, I can see my crew looking for me”, says the American, gesturing to a rather attractive blonde girl and a tough looking guy in a leather jacket. 

“Right.”

“Right… so, is there any way I can contact you?”

Harry looks back at the other man sheepishly, “I’m afraid I don’t have my phone on me. Tired of working calling me during my downtime. I also don’t have my number memorized.”

Jack bites back a sigh, but nevertheless asks, “Do you have a pen on you?”

Harry fumbles around in his pockets, quickly transfiguring a tube of chapstick into a pen with a bit of wandless magic, “Ah, here we are”, handing the pen over to the other man.

Jack grabs Harry’s hand, “Mind if I…?”

Harry shakes his head, “No, go ahead.”

Jack quickly scrawls his number on the other man’s hand and in a swift motion downs his drink and is standing, “Well, Hadrian, I look forward to seeing you again.”

Harry looks down for a brief second, as if he is embarrassed, but then links eyes with Jack once more, “Likewise.”

“Call or text anytime”, The ‘captain’ says with a wink, quickly making his way to the door to meet his companions.

Harry lets out a laugh, “Will do.”

* * *

There were multiple reasons for Harry to be meeting up with Ron tonight. Though he did miss the man, they had some more pressing issues to deal with-- namely Ginny's upcoming wedding. It was something Harry often thought about, keeping him up at night. He was certainly glad that she had found happiness and peace, but he couldn’t help being a little jealous. He desperately wanted to settle down like his friends and die of old age as they would (if Harry could help it), but as they grew older and he stayed the same. 

Harry stopped aging around 20 years old, or at least that is when he noticed that he was in a stasis. The discovery affected him greatly, first figuring it out when he was shot in the chest by a rogue wizard that got their hands on a gun after having their wand taken away. Pain, nothing, and then that train station. He stayed at the train station for a long time, deciding whether he wanted to go on to the great unknown or not. Responsibility won out and Harry woke up, bleeding in an alleyway. 

It was then that the most peculiar thing occurred: the bullet fell out. The wound closed up. After he magicked away the blood on his clothes, Harry made his way back to headquarters, head spinning with the new found information. Seeing as Ron was the first person he found, he pulled his best friend aside and gave him a terrible task. 

Hermione was the next to know and the first to name Harry’s condition: he was the Master of Death. He wouldn’t age and he wouldn’t die. Instead, he would move on, trading life after life after life, one world to the next. What was next, only time would tell. It was enough to drive you mad. 

Ron slid into the seat across from Harry, giving the Boy-Who-Lived a questioning look.

“What?”

“Who was that?”

“Captain Jack Harkness. He seems interesting.” Harry says, nonplussed.

Ron gives the Boy-Who-Lived a scrutinizing eye, “Captain, is he? I’ll look him up in our files down at the station.”

Harry lets out a chuckle, “Still so protective, eh, Ron?”

“I’m happy if you’re happy, so long as you don’t end up with Malfoy. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be protective. You’re still my best mate, Harry.”

Harry settles a glaze upon Ron, “Thank you.”

The red head grins, “No problem. Don’t forget to ring this one, mate. He seemed really into you.”

“I promise.”

There was a brief silence, the two men at a loss for what to say next. Harry broke the silence, “So about Ginny’s wedding…”

* * *

“So who was that?” Rose asks once they are back in the Tardis, “another one of your conquests?”

“Hadrian Evans,” Jack replies, “and, no, I think he might be something more. If he messages me back.”

Rose raises her eyebrows and shares a look with the doctor.

“I thought you were normally the one being chased, not the one doing the chasing.” 

Jack shrugs, “What can I say, he seemed really different. Almost as if we were on the same wavelength.” 

Rose pats him on the shoulder, “Here’s hoping that he calls you back then.”

“Here’s hopin-“ the American started, pausing as he felt a buzz in his pocket. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, smiling at the message he received. 

The doctor places his hand on Jack’s open shoulder, “Perhaps you don’t have to wait.”

Jack smiles brims, “Maybe not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 1/18/2020  
> Hey there! I finally sat down and looked at this again while procrastinating and found that it needed some major work to get a little bit closer to my standards. Let me know what you think!


	2. Chapter 2 of the Meeting Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy y'all! This chapter has also been edited on 1/18/2020!
> 
> -Lauren/Memorykey3

Harry quickly ducked beside the wall, casting out a few ‘expelliarmus’ in an attempt to disarm his attacker. He knew that signing up for a new agency would be dicey at best, but years had gone by since his time at the ministry and boredom was making him restless. 

It had also been years since he’d last seen the captivating man in the bar. Harry had texted him— like any reasonable man would— they’d gone out on a few dates and then Jack was just… gone. Poof. Into thin air. Harry didn’t take it too personally; Hermione had gotten tired of his whining within 3 days (“Harry, I didn’t even complain this much when I gave birth”— That was an argument that would always shut him up). Her and Ron’s kids were almost old enough for their own families, and yet Harry refused to age a day. He still didn’t look any older than 20. This brought about some resentment from past and current friends, but there was really nothing to be done about this.

Harry had encountered a few relationships since, but none of them had really taken off. Something about them just felt… wrong. Incomplete. And so he continued on, swearing off of relationships for a little bit and instead signing on to this agency. He’d signed on under another name, one Thomas Green, in an attempt to separate himself from the wizarding world and everyone that would get star struck upon hearing his name. 

And so he became Thomas Green— the very same Thomas Green engaged in battle in Cardiff of all places. He affixed a permanent glamor to the ring on his finger, turning his messy dark brown hair a sleek and shiny light brown, his deep green eyes shifting to a brilliant blue. Hiding his scar was more difficult, so he instead shifted it to the underside of his jaw, which he had made a tad broader. He would fit in better with the masses, rather than standing out as he had done before.

* * *

Harry had entered this agency as a private and slowly worked his way up the ranks. He merely presented himself as an eager body, making sure that he didn’t showcase the lethality of his magic. Only its usefulness. He felt it was safer this way— for him and his enemies. Harry was NOT in the business of killing after all. Now maiming on the other hand…

His mission for today was supposed to be simple: infiltrate and extract. However, it was proving to be far more difficult, as there was an actual sentient and intelligent enemy for him to detain; a species with technology far greater than mankind. That said, this mission was still pretty low stakes— his enemy lacked basic conversational skills with one another and couldn’t keep a firm grasp on his location.

Harry’s eyes glanced down the hall, having long since heard his enemy grow silent. There stood a tall figure at the end of the hall, wearing a sharp looking grey coat and a striking outfit to match. Harry stowed his wand and raised his gun, affixing his sight enhancing glasses back on his face, and rounding the corner. 

“Please state your name and business!”

There was a pause before the man replied, slowly turning around as if he knew there was a gun pointed to the back of his head, his own gun clattering to the floor. Harry could barely hold back a gasp as he took in just who he was looking at.

“My name is Captain Jack Harkness. I am a member of tor—“

Harry vaguely remembers feeling the butt of a gun glancing off of the back of his head before letting himself drop to his knees, feigning loss of consciousness. Internally, he was fuming. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no content! I've just been going through and editing old works here and there. I was super excited to write this story when I first came up with this idea, but, as you know, inspiration comes in waves. Thank you for your patience! Still not sure if I like this chapter, but if you hold out, I'm rather happy with the next few.

Jack looked at the crumpled figure before him, not really taking in any features of the unconscious man.

“Did you have to do that?” 

The Torchwood cadet shrugged and said, “You were being attacked. I only knocked him out.”

Jack let out a long-suffering sigh, before stooping down and taking in the dumbfounded look the cadet gave him, “Come on. Help me bring him to base.”

The cadet made no move to help, only spurred into action at the reminder of Jack’s high rank and just how much pain not listening could cause him down the road. 

* * *

The walk to base felt unbearably long. Jack was sure that the unconscious man had neutralized any possible enemies, but it didn’t hurt to be cautious. Not being safe had caused Jack a litany of problems in the past and he definitely wasn’t in the mood for any more issues. Today had been a relatively bad day— Jack had been woken up at the crack of dawn due to this imminent threat, his date from last night still in his bed. Needless to say, his date was not very happy and left with a frown on her face, which was not how Jack had hoped the morning would go.

Something was nagging at the back of his mind— had been for a while now. It felt like he had forgotten something important, a mind leech erasing a near and dear part of himself. Like he’d forgotten a favorite word, always on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to say it so bad, and yet he remained tongue-tied.

But, he wasn’t dead yet and he had a job to do. He could worry about the lapses in his memory later. 

Jack took a closer look at the man that confronted him in the hall. He wouldn’t stand out in a crowd, but there was something  _ interesting _ about him. Jack found himself transfixed to the ring on the man's finger— it called to Jack in a way, telling him to take it off, that something was to be found out.

Jack extended his hand, slowly reaching over to the sleeping man’s hand and stopped. Almost as if on cue, the man stirred, a brief look of recognition flashed on his face before a confused look settled over his features. Jack jumped slightly before regaining his composure, the true look of a commander

“Where… am I?”

Either he was a great actor or truly had no idea where he was. Jack preferred to give him the benefit of the doubt in this instance. He would rather have an ignorant captive rather than an all-knowing one.

“You, my friend, are in one of the many bases for the association to which I belong.”

The other man cocked his head, “And what organization is that?” 

Jack paused and considered the other’s words.

“You know I can’t answer that.”

The brit let out a shy laugh and a sheepish smile, “It was worth a shot. What  _ can  _ you tell me?”

“I can tell you that I have the authority to question you if you are willing. It really shouldn’t take too long.”

The sharp laugh from the other man surprised the American, “What makes you think that I am willing to relinquish information about myself? After all, you did knock me out and drag me over here against my will.”

The Torchwood captain bit back a sigh, “I assure you that knocking you out was not my intention. The cadet assigned to me got a little anxious. I brought you here because I figured that we were on the same side. We were taking out the same enemy, after all.”

The room was totally silent for a second, allowing Jack to actually take in his surroundings for a change. It was a compound with thick cement walls— a heavy metal door nestled in the wall opposite Jack and the man he was questioning and a medium-sized window adjacent to the steel table they were seated at. He was afraid the other man was still upset due to his ill-treatment until he heard him speak.

“Enemy of my enemy…”

It was all Jack could do to nod in agreement before launching into another line of questioning.

“May I ask your name? My name is Captain Jack Harkness.”

There was a brief moment of consideration before the other responded.

“Thomas Green.”

“Thomas Green…” Jack let his name sink into his mind, “So, Mr. Green, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

“Serving the queen, of course.”

“Really?”

Thomas scoffed, “Of course not. I work for a private company that has interests in technology and knowledge. I was here on a mission to remove the threat presented and to gather information.”

Jack folded his hands in his lap, slightly annoyed. He figured the response was warranted, but that didn’t stop him from being moderately aggravated, “So along the lines of private military?”

“You could say that.” 

A sly smile presented itself on Thomas’s cheeks. Man, this guy was going to be hard to pin down. 

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?” 

Thomas shrugged, “You talk, I talk. You should know how this goes by now,  _ Captain.” _

“We both know that I’m not going to talk.”

“Then you should know that I won’t either.”

Jack didn’t hold back his sigh this time, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Another silence permeates the air.

Thomas leans in a conspiratorial fashion, mischief exuding from his aura, “I say we play a game— Information Chicken if you will. We both reveal little facts, leading up to more important information. Whoever is asked a question of which they have no desire answering, they have the option of not answering, but in return, they must reveal who they work for. After all, we are friends, are we not?”

Jack considered the offer briefly and found himself agreeing with the terms the British man had set. It was a game that required cooperation; sure, you could just ask something extremely personal at the very beginning, but that wasn’t a good way to yield information. Jack desperately wanted a great deal of information about Thomas and it was definitely more savory than any alternative Jack could think up. And so, he nodded his head in reluctant agreement, “Seems fair enough to me, friend.”

“Alright,” Thomas leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, “Why don’t you ask the first question.”

“That's awfully kind of you,” Jack deadpanned, before taking a second to think up a question. “Where are you from?”

The answer was immediate, “England. And you?”

Jack momentarily considered being a smart ass and replying with ‘earth’, but he rightly assumed that Thomas would deem that answer insufficient and the game would be cut short. 

“A small place near America called Boeshane. When were you born?”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, but continued aways, “June 31st, 1980. Any siblings?”

“You were born in 1980?! But you look so young!”

“I wasn’t aware that ‘but you look so young’ was a quantity applicable to a number of siblings.”

“I’m not allowed to express shock?”

“Precisely”, There was a slight venom in his tone, “I get the feeling that you’re older than you seem, so you have no room to be shocked at my age. Any siblings?”

Jack groaned and sunk into his seat, silently thankful that the mysterious man hadn’t reused Jack’s question, “Just one. How about yourself?”

“Not by blood, no. Any childhood nicknames?”

“Just one— they called me the face of Boe.”

“Clever. Big ladies man?”

“And everyone in between— I don’t discriminate. Is Thomas Green an alias?”

“To the government, no. To my friends, yes. How about you, ‘Captain Jack Harkness’?” 

“Your assumption is correct. Do you want to tell your new friend your real name?”

“Not a chance. What motivates you?”

Jack shrugged in defeat, “It was worth a shot.”

That question stuck out to Jack— it was oddly philosophical. He wasn’t sure what Thomas hoped to gain from the answer Jack gave, “A better tomorrow. How about you?”

“You’ll find that we’re in agreement. What is your favorite place on earth?”

Again, Jack felt something odd about the ‘on earth’ distinction that Thomas made, but he responded nonetheless, “Scotland, though I can’t remember the last time I went there. How long have you been working with your organization?”

The questions and answers went rapid fire, barely giving Jack enough time to memorize how ‘Thomas’ had responded. He was sure that was somewhat purposeful— the more focused Jack is on one answer, the more likely he is to forget the response to another. 

“Who do you work for?”

Well, if Jack was startled before, he was absolutely shocked now.

“Straight to the point, eh?”

“I was getting tired of this game.”

Jack knew he shouldn’t tell Thomas anything, but yet the words fell out of this mouth, “I work for Torchwood.”

Thomas appeared relaxed, almost as if that response took a weight off of his shoulders, “Ahhh, Torchwood.”

“You know Torchwood?”

Thomas shrugged, “Who would I be if I didn’t know Torchwood?”

A thousand questions welled up in Jack’s stomach, but his thought process was cut short as Thomas stood up and headed over to the door.

The American found himself standing, reaching his hand out to stop Thomas from leaving, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Thomas paused for a split second, hand on the doorknob, “Are you going to stop me, friend?”

“Well, no, but—“

Jack linked eyes with Thomas and for a split second his blue eyes flashed a vibrant green, “That’s what I thought.”

Thomas took a step closer to Jack, Jack backing up until his backside met with the edge of the table, “This was a nice chat, but I really must be going. If you see me on the street, don’t hesitate to say ‘hello’. Tell the Doctor ‘the boy who lived says hello’.”

“You-you know the Doctor?”

“Quite well, actually. Anywho, have a nice day. I’ll see you later.”

It was all Jack could do to simply watch Thomas leave, door gently shutting behind him. He could only hope Thomas would make good on his promise.


End file.
